Insert Title Here : Escapades of SG1
by kelinor
Summary: A few humourous interludes at the SGC. First up - Daniel! Your favourite archaeologist gets into trouble for his humanitarian ways with - PLANTS? UPDATE: Jack and his blackmail with green Jell-o. Sweet.
1. Daniel

Insert Title Here  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ // Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate, blah di blah, you've heard it before. Wish I did though...  
  
// Author's note :  
  
// Dedicated to my dear spider plant Albert, who sits on my windowsill slowly dying.  
  
// Sorry, honey.  
  
// Also dedicated to my uncle's university friend, who owned the original boring plants.  
  
// Bwhahaha.  
  
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I placed the container carefully on the corner of my desk, stood back and dusted the dirt off my hands satisfactorily.  
  
For an order, I actually didn't mind this too much...  
  
Mackenzie, that lowlife shrink, had decreed that the morale of the SGC was pretty low following the Christmas season.  
  
Jack had muttered that the morale would have been hell of a lot higher if the psychiatrist had not been at the Christmas party with his suspect tortillas.  
  
I am inclined to agree.  
  
So General Hammond listened to him, of course; can't have his men getting depressed now, can we?  
  
Mackenzie's answer?  
  
Plants.  
  
Plants to uplift the spirit and make the base a brighter place.  
  
My ass.  
  
"Since when has a damn plant ever made me feel better?" yelled Jack, as the airman at the door with his leafy package cringed.  
  
But we're underground, right?  
  
So not ordinary plants.  
  
No no.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Doctor Jackson," the General had come up to me before a briefing, about a week ago.  
  
I looked sideways at him. When the General used that tone, there had to be a favour.  
  
"Do you recall the debrief report you made for P9Y-450?"  
  
I raised my eyebrows and then frowned.  
  
Suuuure I was going to remember those P numbers for every planet we visited.  
  
"The one with the temples you said were reminiscent of Ancient Babylon?"  
  
That jogged a memory. I remembered standing and staring in wonder around at the huge step pyramids, foliage spraying everywhere and blossoms dancing on the breeze. The greenery even extended deep inside the buildings, flourishing in alien darkness.  
  
Photosynthesising with infra-red, Sam said. Pretty, in a way.  
  
Plants in general are pretty. Mostly pretty boring.  
  
It made you yearn for the Ancient Hanging Gardens of Babylon; a pang crossed me as I also recalled that the site of those same gardens were slap bang in the middle of Iraq. Not so safe for an archaeologist there right now.  
  
"Doctor?"  
  
Yeah, yeah I remember. What about them?  
  
The underground red-blossomed spider-plant thingies. Oh yes.  
  
According to the inscriptions on the pyramids themselves, those particular plants were the delight of the people of the city.  
  
Were they potent narcotics, that kind of delight?  
  
Uh, don't think so. Just pretty. And underground. Of course, if I'd been allowed to stay and study further, instead of dragged off towards the pretty generator...  
  
That earned me a dark look from both Jack and Sam.  
  
Deal with it, machine-obsessed friends.  
  
"Well, Doctor, I think you've just been allowed to go back. SG-13 are off there this afternoon."  
  
Whatever for?  
  
They're going to collect plants?  
  
Ah well. Another chance to study those great inscriptions!  
  
Cut out the sarcasm. I'm serious.  
  
There must have been something in my face, because Jack just rolled his eyes, and Sam ducked her head, the way she always does when she's hiding a smile. Teal'c reacted normally.  
  
You know, the eyebrow shooting off the top of the head?  
  
I don't know. You'd think, after all these years, my team would be a little more tolerant?  
  
Chah.  
  
ANYWAY, SG-13 and I rattled off to P9Y-450. Got to copy down more translations whilst soldiers harvested pretty spider plants.  
  
Got shanghaied into carrying said pretty plants as well.  
  
Joy.  
  
Pretty BORING, as I said.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Listen up!" said General Hammond.  
  
Most of the SGC personnel were hanging around the commissary. Jack was in a sulk and hiding in his office.  
  
Probably because the Gate Room was stacked with flowers.  
  
I'm guessing the airmen weren't finding it too great either.  
  
I digress.  
  
General Hammond decreed that every room in the base had to have one of these spider plants in it.  
  
Why?  
  
Morale.  
  
Won't they die?  
  
Special alien underground plants. Deal with it.  
  
Damn, was the word etched into most faces.  
  
I'm not too fussed; plants are pretty boring, but nice, in a way.  
  
Better not say that in front of Jack.  
  
Risk being labelled a pansy again.  
  
Just had to be in Jack's office to see his reaction, though.  
  
I already told you, right?  
  
Ha, ha, ha.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Daniel?"  
  
Sam poked an entreating face around my door.  
  
I looked up, setting down the teapot.  
  
No, I have not converted from coffee!  
  
I was using the teapot as a watering can, of course.  
  
For George.  
  
George is my alien spider plant.  
  
Why the hell is it called George?  
  
Just because.  
  
Say hello to George, the boring plant.  
  
Sam is the only one who knows about George's name.  
  
Cannot face mass ridicule if Jack found out.  
  
Cannot face scary General if he finds out about name either.  
  
Sam had come into my office, warily looking about as if she was about to be discovered doing something bad.  
  
She was carrying a spider plant, too.  
  
Why'd you bring that?  
  
You want me to look after it?  
  
But the orders...  
  
Ah, it's cluttering up your lab. Just while you do this particular experiment.  
  
I shrugged. Can't see a problem with that.  
  
Sam smiled with relief, and carefully set down her plant next to mine.  
  
Then left – rather hurriedly, as I recall.  
  
Anyway, stuck with Sam's equally boring plant for a few days.  
  
I looked at it critically. She didn't seem to have been watering it too well...  
  
Okay, these plants need no natural sunlight, but they still needed water!  
  
I gave it a judicious sprinkling.  
  
Not really fair, seeing it next to healthy George.  
  
Decide to write pointed label and stick it on, for when ...it.. was returned to Sam.  
  
It.  
  
What the hell, it can be called George, too.  
  
Finished writing out label.  
  
GEORGE, A BORING PLANT.  
  
Ha.  
  
Water it anyway.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Okay, getting more than a little ridiculous now.  
  
First it was Teal'c.  
  
Daniel Jackson, this plant form is preventing me from Kel'nor'eeming productively.  
  
You what?!  
  
How can a plant... oh, never mind.  
  
George now sits on the desk, with George, a boring plant, and George, another boring plant.  
  
Teal'c had also been neglecting George. Another pointed label is in evidence.  
  
Next, Jack wandered in a few days later. I was busy sorting out my files from the obelisk writings on P7J-881.  
  
What?!?!  
  
Find your own damn coffee, Jack! That substance is not allowed from my sight!  
  
Huh?  
  
Am now forced to explain presence of George, George and George.  
  
Refuse to explain name choice!  
  
Wonder to self on choice of name, too.  
  
Maybe its because they're so borin- no!  
  
Am blackmailed into taking Jack's plant into care.  
  
I hate it when he grins like that and calls me spacemonkey.  
  
I also hate it when I'm forced to do stuff for him, just because he knows about the whole green-Jell-o-and-imaginary-Janet incident.  
  
Cringe.  
  
Mmmm...  
  
Green Jell-o and Janet...  
  
Did I just say that out loud?  
  
Eheheheh....  
  
Shut up, okay! It was a dream! And then it... okay, you don't need to know.  
  
Am exceptionally annoyed by blatant blackmail attempt.  
  
Jack now owns George, an EXTREMELY boring plant.  
  
Hah.  
  
Actually, I'd be surprised if it survives. I don't think Jack watered it once.  
  
Hmm... the desk is getting a bit crowded now...  
  
I'll move George over on top of the computer monitor.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!  
  
Crap, I'm picking up Jack habits now...  
  
That was Sergeant Siler who just left. He'd better secure that Snickers bar stash.  
  
Or else George, the likewise boring plant, will die!  
  
Muhahaha!  
  
Cursed as discovered not enough boring epithets to label all these plants.  
  
I swear more appeared overnight. Okay, I'm supposed to be looking after nine, but where did these other five come from??  
  
Resort to writing label in Babylonian.  
  
Water the hordes of Georges.  
  
Curse again at my tender-hearted ways.  
  
Try and sit down at desk again, and attempt to work.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
That's it.  
  
No more Mr Nice Archaeologist.  
  
I absolutely refuse to care for all of these plants! No matter how much water they need!  
  
I moved the one blocking the door and sighed, flicking on the light switch as I began the day, an hour earlier than everyone else because of those damned Jaffa transcripts.  
  
Ouch, George doesn't look so good. He's new; I can tell, because he's slap bang in the middle of my files.  
  
That makes 34.  
  
Decide to hatch a cunning plan.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I picked up George, an excessively boring plant.  
  
George was the only plant left, sitting innocently on the corner of my desk. He can stay there; no point in me getting into trouble, is there?  
  
I know exactly where this spider plant is going, however.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"WHAT THE SAM HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!?!?"  
  
General Hammond's yell echoed around Cheyenne Mountain. I swear the trees on the top must have trembled.  
  
I jumped up from my desk and ran innocently and hurriedly towards the noise, meeting Sam, Jack and several airmen on the way.  
  
We got to General Hammond's office.  
  
Or at least, the doorway of his office.  
  
Beware the dread General face.  
  
"Are these plants not supposed to be, each one, looked after and kept by each one of you?"  
  
Uh-oh. Sweetness of tone is not good in angry people.  
  
"And perhaps one of you might care to explain why every – single – one – is labelled GEORGE???"  
  
"That's their names, sir," said Jack without thinking.  
  
Excellent.  
  
Right into the trap.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Jack is now trying to explain the reason why the spider plants are there. He tried to tell the truth, poor guy.  
  
I lied outright, of course.  
  
Me, mild-mannered Doctor Jackson, commit plant abuse?  
  
This could only be the diabolical work of one grey-haired Colonel.  
  
Hah.  
  
That pays back for the blackmail thing.  
  
Sam nearly got me caught though. Luckily, today she's on my side.  
  
In your face, Jack!  
  
What's that, General?  
  
Why are some of the labels in Babylonian?  
  
.......  
  
Oh crap.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Nooo!  
  
Ultimate humility!  
  
Entire base, or at least those personnel without plants, are cautioned.  
  
Even Chevron Guy is having to do morning chores in the commissary with most of the airmen who had 'mislaid' George.  
  
Teal'c got to catalogue stores.  
  
Sam got to help him – un-computer aided.  
  
Kinda funny.  
  
This isn't though.  
  
"Pass that bucket back up here, Danny! Or else!"  
  
Or else what, Jack? I get soapy water on my glasses again?  
  
Actually, that's pretty annoying.  
  
So's scrubbing the Stargate.  
  
Have you any idea how high that thing is?  
  
How precise and detailed the carvings are?  
  
How difficult it is to clean with a TOOTHBRUSH?  
  
That's not the worst though. Jack got the last line.  
  
Double-crossing bastard.  
  
When we've finished this, I have to endure Janet's questions on green Jell- o.  
  
He is SO dead.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ \\ It was late at night, I was young and foolish, I confess... Endure the lame humour. Just tell me how to make it better by pressing that little review button!  
  
\\ DO IT NOW!  
  
\\ ....  
  
\\ ^-^; 


	2. Jack

> Insert Title Here - Jack
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I placed the container carefully on the corner of his desk, stood back and lifted the dishcloth off satisfactorily.  
  
Daniel didn't even twitch in his sleep.  
  
Sweet.  
  
I decided to walk away very slowly now, placing each foot quietly, and then speeded up as I left the office and headed for the infirmary...  
  
I still can't believe the cheek of the man!  
  
This morning, while I was_ innocently_ eating my breakfast in the commissary, my great friend Doctor Jackson decided to load all of those godforsaken plants into the General's office.  
  
Fine, he had too many to look after.  
  
But did he _have_ to blame it all on me?  
  
I ask you, what could I possibly have done to deserve that?  
  
Okay, so maybe I blackmailed him a little. But it was only a little.  
  
And in the end I did manage to prove that it was all his fault.  
  
But dear, dear General Hammond has decided that tonight we _both_ have equal punishment.  
  
What is this, a kid's playground? Yes, sir, Mr Principal SIR!  
  
Can't get back at the General though.  
  
For a certain archaeologist it was a different matter.  
  
Jack O'Neill, you have a devious mind.  
  
Thankyou, thankyou, it was nothing.  
  
"Hey, Doc?"  
  
I cautiously rapped a knuckle on the open door of the infirmary and then strode in.  
  
Janet Frasier, the small but scary woman with the rule of iron, a thing about using deadly needles on unsuspecting Colonels, and I'm sure she's hiding some kinda power complex. And the only person whom I can blackmail Daniel with.  
  
Blackmail's such an ugly word. I prefer retribution.  
  
For crying out loud! Of course I know what that actually means!  
  
Anyway, she looks concerned. This might work...  
  
"Why are you worried about him, Colonel?" she asked anxiously as we travelled the corridors towards Danny's office.  
  
"Well, he requested all the green jell-o on the base , went back up to his office, and promptly fell fast asleep... maybe he's ill?"  
  
I coulda won an Oscar for that innocent voice.  
  
"He requested green jell-o??"  
  
"Jell-o."
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
  
Still fuming from the plant fiasco, I had left the General's office and stalked back down to finish my cereal.  
  
No, not fruit loops, quit asking already.  
  
I sat there, still immersed in angry feelings of revenge.  
  
I was _not_ looking forward to scrubbing the Stargate.  
  
Especially with a toothbrush.  
  
Daniel is SO dead.  
  
Then it struck me.  
  
Fine, the blackmail was a low trick. But what better way to repay him than with revealing it anyway?  
  
Of course, it would mean that I no longer had that lever on Daniel.  
  
I decided it was worth it.  
  
Abandoning my breakfast I got to my feet and wandered over to where cookie was listening to a nervous airman. The look of delight on his face was probably because he's going to have a ton of extra helpers tomorrow following the plant incident.  
  
"Uh, excuse me, Kellerman?" I said amiably, tapping the cook on the shoulder as the airman departed. "What's up, Colonel?" he replied in similar vein.  
  
Yes! He still has some jell-o left, though he's waiting for a delivery.  
  
Wait... no green?  
  
Damn!  
  
Think, think O'Neill!  
  
Blue and yellow make green, right?  
  
So some time later, after a bemused Kellerman had handed me the entire base supply of blue and yellow jell-o (hey, that rhymes – okay, okay, I'm shutting up!) I began to apply one to the other.  
  
I stared at the dark green lumpy mess.  
  
So it wasn't the violent green like the packet jell-o, but hey! It was Daniel's dream, did it matter if it wasn't perfect green?  
  
Suppressing a snort of laughter, I mushed the large bowl a little more and then carried it carefully (not looking guilty, I swear) covered in a dishcloth.  
  
Just as I had planned, Daniel had been asleep at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his glasses skewed across his head. The guy must have been wiped out – there was a ton of paperwork on his desk that he must have done that morning, _and _he had moved that stack of spider plants.  
  
Just desserts, Danny boy, I thought uncharitably as the bowl went on the table.  
  
This is going to be oh so sweet.
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
  
"See, there he is, Doc," I said, waving a hand vaguely in the sleeping archaeologist's direction.  
  
Frasier looked non-plussed at the huge container of green jell-o sitting squarely in front of Daniel.  
  
I watched from the doorway as Janet went around the desk and knelt anxiously by Daniel's side, one hand pressed against his forehead checking for fever.  
  
"Daniel? Can I do something about this green Jell-o?"  
  
Daniel's eyes snapped open at the sound of her voice.  
  
His gaze flicked instantly from the bowl in front of him to the redhead kneeling by his side.  
  
"Janet, I thought you'd never ask," he said, his voice still hoarse from sleep as his grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer.  
  
"Doctor Jackson!!"  
  
I believe I'll just saunter away quietly now.
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
  
Trying to avoid a murderous gaze pinned against your back in quite difficult.  
  
I stretched aching shoulders and leant a peremptory hand down the ladder.  
  
"Pass that bucket back up here, Danny! Or else!"  
  
I winced at the glare and industriously scrubbed the final part of the chevron.  
  
"Last part, Daniel. You nearly done down there?"  
  
Thank God that's over with.  
  
This Stargate sure is finickity to clean.  
  
But that shocked look and bright red face of Daniel as he realised what he had said was ample payback, I feel.  
  
Muhahaha!  
  
I hear he still has to explain to the Doc what exactly is it with the green Jell-o.  
  
Revenge is definitely something to be savoured.  
  
Hey, look. Carter's just come in to watch.  
  
Come to watch the humiliation of the scrubbing boys?  
  
...  
  
Ouch, that fell a little flat.  
  
Carter looks almightily pissed.  
  
Oh, come _on_, what did I do _now_?  
  
I jumped down off the final rungs of the ladder, wincing as I jarred my knee, holding out my hands in a placatory fashion.  
  
What's up, Carter?  
  
You... don't have any blue jell-o.  
  
Uh... yuh?  
  
Come on, is that my fault? Ask jell-o boy here!  
  
You asked Kellerman?  
  
Ohcrap.  
  
Come on, its just a bit of blue jelly product, no need to get mad...  
  
Eheh...  
  
YOU WHAT??  
  
Okay, Danny, Carter, there is NO NEED to find those photographs from P4X- 103. It was a laugh at the time, tribal drink, bizarre behaviour, yadda yadda.... but no.  
  
I'm serious.  
  
So are you?  
  
CRAP!  
  
I think I'm in trouble now....
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Author's note: Sam's up next, then Teal'c. Yay! Sorry that chapter is shorter, and not so good. I'll get better, I promise.  
  
-


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